Let It Be
by Backstage
Summary: A series of newsie romances set to the tune of my favorite Beatles songs. Don't forget to read and review!
1. Yesterday

**Mini-intro here, since this is the first chapter:**

**All right. For the next few chapters, I'll be writing a series of one-shot songfics with a central force surrounding them. What is it? The Beatles.**

**I'm guessing that's all the background information you need! grin Just make sure you read and review!**

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _Newsies_, don't own The Beatles or "Yesterday." Raven owns herself and she's wonderful, so contact her if you want to use her character.

**YESTERDAY**

_**Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away  
**__**Now it looks as though they're here to stay  
**__**Oh I believe in yesterday**_

My first reaction when I saw her walk away was to be expected. I kicked, I screamed, I swore. I'm Spot Conlon; guess that entitles me to do whatever the hell I pleased. It should have been a refreshing feeling to know I could be a bastard when and where I wanted to be. _Should_ have been.

Now that I look back on it, there was only reason for my acting like a two year-old. Somehow I thought that if I had kicked and screamed and fussed long and loud enough, she'd come back like she always did. She always cleaned up after my messes. I'd always smirk to myself as she would appear again in the doorway, her dark, all-knowing eyes glaring at me with a sense of exasperation. _I'm just coming back because I'm sick of you acting like a child whenever I leave, _she'd say. Then she'd put her bag down again and wedge her way into my arms and we'd have the greatest make-up sex ever; not gonna lie to you.

I used to think I had her trained. Hell, it was probably what she _wanted_ me to think. Raven always had a way of doing that—making me feel like I was still the king of it all and lord over our relationship. I knew and she knew that she wore the pants. She had me wrapped around her finger. She just must have gotten sick of it. Maybe that was what it was.

Dawn's first streaks painted over the dismally black night. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass window facing west into Manhattan. She still looked like a goddess to me. The morning's first light was at her back, coaxing out a golden hue from her ordinarily chocolate brown hair. She took a graceful leap from one dock to the next, until she must have ended back on the mainland, because I didn't see her after that.

"Shit," I hissed to no one in particular. My fists collided with the windowpane and I felt something strange building right in the center of my throat. I knew what it was right away and I drew in a very shaky breath. No; I wasn't going to do this.

For God's sake, I have a reputation to maintain! Could you imagine what would happen if one of my newsies walked in and saw his leader in tears like a pansy? No. Spot Conlon doesn't cry. And he sure as hell doesn't cry over some chick.

_**Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be  
**__**There's a shadow hanging over me  
**__**Oh yesterday came suddenly**_

I swear, twelve hours ago I wouldn't have even imagined I'd be the freaking emotional wreck I was before. Just after midnight that evening, I was just as carefree as the next guy. I'd just kicked Jack Kelly's ass in poker, and I was sitting on my bed just counting out every bit of the nine dollars and twenty-eight cents. Maybe I'd take Raven to dinner or something. But that would probably amount to a mere three dollars. I still had six dollars to do whatever the hell I wanted, and it was beautiful.

As I was brooding over my winnings, Tabloid came and knocked on my open door. "Uh, Spot? Ray's here to see you."

I set down one of the many dimes I had collected on my bed and gave Tabloid a bewildered glare. "She knows she can come up when she wants," I muttered. Raven always barged in whenever she wanted. Usually at the worst possible times, too, but we won't get into that…

"Well, yeah, but she wanted me to give you some warning first. Or somethin'."

For a brief second, my heart dropped. This little inconsistency in her behavior sent me some kind of psychic jolt that something was amiss.

"Uh, send 'er up already then," I barked harshly, trying to keep my increasingly thinning varnish of toughness on the surface.

Tabloid disappeared, and the familiar sound of feminine boots tapping their way upstairs filtered into my room. The sound was familiar to me, soothing—like it was my security. I knew Raven was soon to be in my presence.

Of course, I didn't act all gushy. Hell no. Spot Conlon, king of all Brooklyn, world-renowned tough guy sure as hell wouldn't get all starry eyed at the sight of some girl.

Ultimately, as can be expected, there she was, clad in her provocative, off-shoulder blouse and tattered crimson skirt. I could see the black fishnet stockings through the thin fabric. I drew the conclusion that she didn't change after working at the brothel all night.

"Didn't have time to change?" I tossed out casually, stretching a little on my back. I made sure to amend my statement with the afterthought of a smirk. No need to offend her.

She stooped to re-button her boot, looking up at me. Her dark gaze was stained by the raccoon-like eye makeup that only whores wore. I constantly asked her to remove it (believe it or not, I _am_ a sucker for beautiful eyes), but she just ignored me. She didn't seem ashamed about her profession in the least. I had to admit that I admired her unabashed proclamation of her engaging in the world's oldest profession.

"…What?" I asked as her staring at me lengthened to an uncomfortable duration.

She blinked, looking down at the floor for a second to gather her thoughts, rising to her full height again. Before she spoke, she relieved herself of a breath that she'd undoubtedly been holding for the five months we've been together.

"We've got to end it," she whispered. It was so casual that I didn't pick up the sentiment right away.

In fact, I started rambling on my own, overlapping her important statement with my trivial mutterings:

"…So yeah, I totally kicked Jack's ass in poker tonight, and I won almost nine and a half dollars. Don't know what I'm gonna do with it, but maybe if you and I wanted to—"

"Aiden Deane _Conlon_! Will you shut _up_ for a moment!"

I was taken aback. Never, ever, not even in our most intimate moments did Raven use my full name. I didn't respond verbally. My lips parted in a gape of surprise, giving her the cue to continue.

"I can't keep doing this. I just can't. I can't keep putting you through this." She repeated it several times, muttering as she paced the room, gathering bits of her belongings around my room that she'd left there so many times before: nylons, love notes, perfume bottles, meaningless scraps of paper that only served purpose in her esoteric gaze.

It must have been ten minutes before I got over the initial shock to speak. "Raven… what the hell? Why are you doing this?"

_**Why she had to go I don't know  
**__**She wouldn't say  
**__**I said something wrong now I long for yesterday**_

She wouldn't look at me, and as she kept packing up her things, I followed her like a persistent puppy dog, pegging her with question after question, wondering what had caused this sudden change in her perspective. Never once did she look at me.

Her ignoring me only sent my mind in a whirlwind of what ifs, wondering who'd said something to her. Did her employers at the whorehouse find out about us? Did they forbid her to see me again? Did she think she was hurting me? She wasn't hurting me. I didn't mind. I used to mind, but I didn't, not anymore. Was it something I'd said?

All of these thoughts came out as a jumbled, unrehearsed monologue. I was talking to a brick wall as far as she was concerned. Whatever her reasons, she seemed frighteningly set in her ways. Not a trace of emotion glazed over her coal-colored gaze.

"Raven." Firmly I stood in front of her, hands gripping her shoulders. As the middle of the night approached, I knew I was fighting a losing battle, but I searched her eyes. "Ray, can we? Just once more."

Any other girl would have turned me down. And even Raven, who'd slept with countless men before me, should have. But the sympathetic look in her eyes—the first emotion she'd shown since she'd gotten there that night—showed me that she was really and truly sorry for me.

"Yeah, fine," she said with an absentminded nod and a hoarseness to her voice.

The next few hours were a blur of nearly legitimate passion. For one last time, we were one and life was good again. The sensation was all too fleeting. In a dreamlike sweep under the sheets, Raven sat up suddenly, clutching at her remaining clothes, putting the rest of them on.

"I have to go now," she said with a sigh.

It was as though I wasn't even there. I felt like an unnoticed ghost watching the events unfold as she haphazardly tried to pin up her hair and grab her small satchel.

"I love you, Ray." It was the first time the words had left my chapped lips. Sure, I'd thought them many times, but I'd never spoken them aloud.

This change was hardly enough to get her to pause. She kept walking, and I kept staring. Wondering if she'd come back. And, of course, she never did.

_**Yesterday love was such an easy game to play  
**__**Now I need a place to hide away  
**_**_Oh I believe in yesterday._**

Stay tuned for another Beatles songfic next time! While you're waiting, send me some reviews to make me smile, huh?


	2. Hello, Goodbye

_Okay. This-a one's for my Bex, also known as Rubix. As can be expected, I don't own Newsies (never will), and "Hello Goodbye" isn't mine, and Rubix is her own. Enjoy! Don't forget to keep those reviews a-comin'!_

**HELLO, GOODBYE**

_**You say yes, I say no  
**__**You say stop, and I say go go go  
You say goodbye and I say hello  
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello**_

It was a considerable amount of time after the strike. The stickiness of the July heat had subsided to fall and now folks were anticipating the first Manhattan snow of the year. On Newspaper Row, newsies replaced their loads of papers with loads of firewood to Duane Street.

David Jacobs was leaned against the front stoop of his family's apartment building near the lodging house and observed all of this with a spectator's glance. After all this time, he had assumed he'd been accepted by now. Sure, he was a little on the awkward side upon first encounter with the Manhattan newsies, but after he'd helped Jack stand up to the powerful newspaper companies, well, he'd gotten considerable respect.

He'd never crow about being the "King of New York" like all of his new friends would, or anything completely idiotic like that. No, he reveled in his slight fame silently.

Sure, everything seemed to work perfectly for the "walkin' mouth," but there was something that every newsie in New York had that he lacked: a girl to call his own.

David gave it plenty of thought, of course. Even so, he had a bad habit of pining for the girls that were always unattainable. Ever since the strike ended in July, he was determined to get Rubix, the right hand "man" of Spot Conlon, to do something besides insult him whenever he'd say a casual hello.

Every muscle in David's body slumped with uneasiness as, surely enough, there she was, coming around the corner. Why did he even stand in front of his house at the same time every day? He knew damn well that Rubix would come past him at the same time every morning. You could practically set your watch by it.

He drew in a shaky breath. The pair of impishly glowing green eyes seemed to appear before anything else. It was hard to tell what was noticed next as a mane of red hair, a flame of a crown that adorned her head, billowed around her in the breezy atmosphere.

"Morning, Rubix," he stammered with a grin. God help him, but he really never wanted to utter a mean word to this beautiful creature of a young lady.

For a moment, she didn't even turn to acknowledge him. "Mornin' yourself, bookworm." Her words blended into the breeze so perfectly that they could very well have been a figment of David's imagination.

**_I say high you say low  
You say why and I say I don't know  
Oh no  
You say goodbye and I say hello  
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello  
Hello, hello  
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello  
Why, why, why do you say goodbye, goodbye_**

"Hey, wait a minute, Bex…" David wanted to take back the words immediately as they left his mouth. Not only did he talk _back_ to her, but he used the nickname that only Spot and some of the more influential newsies had the permission to invoke.

With a cat-like turn of her heel, her emerald eyes flashed right at him. "_'Scuse_ me, Mouth?"

_Damn it._ David was utterly trapped. That mouth of his…

"Why don'tcha ever have anything nice to say about me?" He was digging himself in deeper, so he ran with it.

Rubix gave him an impatient stare. "I fail to see why it matters to the Walkin' Mouth whether or not Spot's li'l bird is nice to him. You don't see me any other time of the day, an' I stay away from you too." She shrugged her petite shoulders apathetically. "Just 'cause we're both at the right hand of two of the leaders of the New York newsies don't mean we gotta be chummy with each other."

He balked after the mini-monologue. For once, David had nothing smart to say in return. He just studied her face—it was only for a second—but he was dumbfounded. It was a surge of mixed emotions. If Rubix wasn't a lady (and yes, to David Jacobs, even the beautifully sarcastic and snappy girl was a lady), he would have given her a real piece of his mind. But oh, how he admired that spark and spirit…

She took David's silence as an indicator that she was free to move along. "G'bye, David," she tossed curtly, preparing to walk away.

"You said my name…" A grin tickled David's lips.

Rubix's back stiffened as she turned to face him again. "Well, that's your name, ain't it?"

"Sure… But, well, ah… you just don't use it so much. I usually expect being called 'bookworm,' 'mouth,' 'curly top'—"

"I get it, I get it." She fluttered her eyes closed in exasperation. "So, is that all you want from me? You just want me to call you David and you'll leave me alone?"

He couldn't help but grin boyishly at her. "Well, it's an awful good start, right?"

_**Oh no  
**__**You say goodbye and I say hello  
Hello, hello  
**__**I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello  
Hello, hello  
**__**I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello**_

Rubix just squinted at him a little sympathetically. For the first time, something tugged on the strings of her conscience. In her tart way of replying to statements, had she actually hurt someone's feelings? The feeling was very unfamiliar when she'd grown up in Brooklyn, amidst the hardest of hearts.

She licked her lips for a moment to soften them. "Hey look, Mouth—er, I mean, David—I don't mean to be nasty, okay? I'm just used to it." Her finger poked at her once-white shirt, right where David was certain a kind heart was located. "Brooklyner over here, remember?"

He readjusted his seated position on the steps. "I suppose that's understandable." He offered her a smile. "That Spot is one tough cookie."

For the first time, David received the blessing of seeing a real, true smile tug at Rubix's lips. "Yeah, he sure is." As if the smile wasn't enough of a gift from Heaven, the natural melody of her laugh reached David's ears.

They shared a laugh, and it was followed (as first laughs together usually are) by a very awkward pause.

"Well, uh…" David stammered, trailing off, desperate to break the silence.

"Yeah…" Rubix squinted in the direction of Brooklyn, turning to David once more. Her smile was retained on her only slightly chapped lips. "So. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

David could easily die a happy young man. "You bet! Er, I mean—sure, that sounds swell." He leaned back, attempting to be coolly indifferent.

She giggled. "You're not fooling anyone, you know." She readjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, tipping the brim of her cap to him. "See you tomorrow, David."

"Tomorrow. G'bye, Rubix."

"'Bye." She smiled, strolling a little more leisurely, whistling to herself.

David watched Rubix's retreating figure intently, and as soon as he was certain the girl was out of earshot, he let out the loudest, most overjoyed whoop he'd ever had the experience to release.

"She knows my name! She _likes_ me! She really does! I know she does! Look at me, I'm the king of New York…!"

_**You say yes (I say yes)  
I say no (But I may mean no)  
You say stop (I can stay)  
And I say ('Til it's time to go)  
Go, go, go  
Oh, no  
You say goodbye and I say hello  
Hello, hello  
**__**I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello  
**_

_Stay tuned for the next chapter and Beatles song! grin Keep in mind that the more reviews I get, the faster I'll update! Thanks a million!_


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